


Small Human Corner

by TwinIvoryElephants



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: Angst, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Menstruation, the menstruation is not related to the kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25261030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinIvoryElephants/pseuds/TwinIvoryElephants
Summary: Astrid feels alienated and numb. Orc tries to comfort her. Takes place during PLAGUE, when Astrid and Orc are at Coates together.
Relationships: Astrid Ellison/Charles "Orc" Merriman
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Small Human Corner

Astrid moved as if in a dream. Her fingers trembled as they gripped the heavy wet fabric of her remaining nightgown sleeve, carefully removing it from her shoulder. The gown fell to the tile floor. She stepped out of it and moved to the tub—balanced on golden clawed feet, as befitting Coates’ posh standards—by the bathroom window, barely feeling the goosebumps beginning to appear on her skin. Astrid stood with her arms crossed over her chest, staring blankly at the rising water, so clean and hot. Her hair hung in damp, stringy strands over her bony shoulders. Her skin felt worn through with rain and sorrow.

Once every few seconds, she felt a small glut of blood fall onto her inner thighs. The ruby-red drops rolled down her legs, eventually staining the cool tile floor. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the state of one of Coates’ many bathrooms—let it be stained by her. Let there be evidence that Astrid the Genius was here, and that she bled, dirtying the floor just like she dirtied the council, just like the houses burned to rubble and the bodies buried underneath them…. 

She turned the faucet off. The blue-green water gave off a thick steaming halo of heat. She climbed into the tub gingerly before lying down, shivering, wanting to be immersed, wanting to be warm. She felt cold inside and out, like a rag wrung out and left in a soggy heap.

She took a nearby sponge and began to scrub. First her legs, scrubbing it clean of blood. She scoured her forearms till it stung. Then, she lay back, submerging her hair in the water. When she stood up, it hung in a dark, glossy curtain down her back, dripping. 

Astrid toweled off briskly. She felt slightly more awake, now. She’d found a pair of clean-looking underwear in one of the bedrooms along with an off-shoulder top. An ancient box in the back of the bathroom cabinet provided her with a pad whose baby pink wrapper smelled vaguely musty. She breathed a small sigh of relief through her nose as she pulled the pair of underwear up to her hips. It was one less thing to worry about. She ignored the small browning spots on the tile.

Upon slipping on the shirt and rubbing a clear circle in the steamed-up mirror, she realized with some discomfort that it was tighter than any of her own blouses. If she sniffed her sleeve, she could catch a whiff of perfume. _Probably belonged to Diana,_ she thought, but she was too tired to feel spiteful. The top would do. That was all that mattered. 

She had to hunt through multiple bedrooms until she found some pants: a pair of waist-hugging jeggings that were soft and pliable to the touch. Astrid liked them much better than the top.

She went into the bedroom where Little Pete was and ran her fingers through her wet hair, tugging out the knots absently, as she watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful. He looked like he hadn’t a care in the world. _You could have made it rain,_ she thought. _You could have made the rain come and wash away the fire before anyone got hurt due your sister’s stupidity. Her selfishness. You know that, Petey?_

She grimaced and turned away. She couldn’t look at him right then. She felt too resentful, too frustrated. She wanted someone else to take the fall. She wanted someone to take the responsibility. 

It felt she was caving in from the weight of it all.

Astrid walked downstairs, her stomach cramping. The stairs creaked with every step. She only looked up from her bare feet when she reached the last stair. She saw a bulky figure sitting splayed out in the shadows, bottles glinting around him. 

Orc had abandoned the dining room table he’d initially sat at in favor of sitting against the wall. When Astrid looked at the table, she saw why. The two chairs he had been sitting on had splintered at the legs; the pieces sat on the floor.

“I got off before I broke the floor,” he informed her in a low grunt. Astrid took a moment to imagine the hypothetical crater that would create. She wondered why he’d bothered.

She wanted water, but there weren’t any cups nearby, and she didn’t want to search. She sat down next to Orc in the alcove. It wouldn’t do any good to avoid him, she thought, despite wanting to. They’d have to face each other eventually.

Astrid thought of his face when he’d asked about the blood on her legs. His wide eyes, a look of confusion and anger on her behalf, just in case the Human Crew had caused it. It made her feel giddy. It made her want to laugh at his naïvete and cry at it at the same time. Why did he care? She knew, but she still didn’t understand. The same girl that tutored him in algebra so long ago wasn’t the same person standing in the Coates dining room with him. That girl hadn’t tried to create order from chaos and only lost lives in the process. That girl was innocent. That girl was good.

Orc’s eyes lingered on her, drunk and steady. Astrid’s face warmed. She was hyper-aware of the fact that the thin fabric and tightness of her top made it obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She pulled up her legs and rested her hands on her knees, feeling stiff and uncomfortable in her own skin.

“You okay?” he grunted suddenly. His voice made her start.

 _No,_ Astrid wanted to say. Suddenly, she felt angry. More than that, she felt livid. _Of course not! Nothing is okay. Nothing has been okay since Petey made the dome appear._ Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. They blurred her vision.

Astrid tightened her grip on her knees, mortified. She wasn’t going to cry. Not now. She had stayed dry-eyed and stalwart through the walk to Coates, through her bath, through visiting Petey, the hunting for jeans, all of it. Now she was going to crumble because Orc had asked her a question? Because she could feel his eyes on her body, wanting her, and the feelings of disgust and sorrow that dredged up made her feel all the more sick to her stomach?

Astrid tried to avoid blinking as she said, stiffly, staring straight ahead, “Yes. I’m fine.”

Her voice broke halfway through. _Shit,_ she thought, weakly, and the tears began to fall. She wiped them away with as much dignity as possible.

Orc watched her with wide eyes, as if in the presence of a strange, unpredictable creature. He moved to drink from his current bottle, then offered it to Astrid instead. “Here,” he muttered. She took it and drank deep before giving it back. It tasted awful, but slipped down her throat easily, warming her stomach.

“Thank you,” she said.

He touched her shoulder with his gravel fingers. They were hard and cool on her shirt fabric. Astrid felt tears threaten again. She reached up and interlaced his fingers with her own, wanting to stave off the sorrow, wanting to process and be comforted as quickly as possible so she wouldn’t have to deal with the yawning abyss in the pit of her chest. His fingers were rough, inhuman. She wouldn’t know a boy was inside that strange stone body just by their texture.

She turned and looked at Orc. His eyes—one milky yellow, the other simply bloodshot—looked sadly at her from beneath his crag of a brow. It made her insides clench. It made everything worse.

“Stop,” Astrid said. “Please.”

“What?” Orc blinked.

“Stop being nice to me.” Her lip trembled. “I don’t deserve it.”

“No,” he said, sounding confused.

Astrid felt her stomach cramp again. She reached her hand out, and Orc gave her the bottle. She drank, and the cramp dissolved in acrid warmth. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he muttered, but he took his hand out of hers. He unwrapped another bottle of cabka. 

Astrid sniffled. After a moment, she straightened her spine. “Hold my hand. Please,” she added. He looked at her, as if unsure that he’d heard her correctly. In response, she offered her hand to him, feeling hot and faintly foolish.

He obliged. Astrid scooted closer. She was cold, and the alcohol made her feel lightheaded, and Orc’s hand cradled hers so gently. It struck her that, despite the numbness, she wanted to be held. _Even by an alcoholic monster,_ she thought. _An alcoholic monster who wants to feel me up_. The thought was so absurd and bitter it made her almost want to laugh.

Orc was staring at her, searching her face thoroughly. Astrid looked back. Something was blossoming in her chest, a vein of warmth running through the numbness. His good eye looked at her with naked longing. The human part of his cheek, the one that encompassed a corner of his mouth, was flushed with drink. Astrid wondered what it’d be like to touch that delicate patch of skin. She felt a flutter in her belly, knowing that he’d want her to.

They were looking at each other intently, fingers clumsily interlaced. Something dangerous was starting, thickening the silence between them, but Astrid didn’t want to break it, didn’t want it to stop. She leaned in, shifting her body so she could rise up to meet him. Orc stiffened as she pressed her lips gently to his own; she could feel it in the way his fingers tensed over her hand. 

Astrid’s scientific mind was intrigued by the way his mostly gravel lips carefully moved so as not to scrape her sensitive skin, but her heart swelled at the softness of that small human corner.


End file.
